The Importance of Being a Writer
by bingblot
Summary: A one-shot post-ep to 7x13 "I, Witness" and a sort of sequel to my other fics, "By the Power Vested in Me" and "A Writer's Life and Love." Kate comes up with a plan to cheer Castle up and invites the Judge who officiated their wedding ceremony and his wife over to dinner at the house in the Hamptons, leading to a conversation about Castle's books.


Disclaimer: All things "Castle" belong to ABC. I only own the Langfords.

Author's Note: A post-ep to 7x13 "I, Witness" and a sort-of sequel to my other fics, "By the Power Vested in Me" and "A Writer's Life and Love." This is set at some time BEFORE the coronary-inducing 7x14 "Resurrection."

**The Importance of Being a Writer**

Kate had a plan.

A plan to distract and comfort Castle. He'd been making an effort to hide it but she knew he was still bothered by his old friend Eva's using him and how the plot had ended up with two people, including Eva, dead. She knew how he acted when he'd been betrayed by someone whom he knew and trusted, had seen it after his old friend Damien was arrested for murder, had seen it when he'd been so disappointed by his father. What Eva had done was less personal a betrayal, but it still bothered him. That, combined with his doubts over his new role as a P.I., had been making him more silent than usual, brooding. And she hated to see it. As much as his rather childish exuberance annoyed her at times, she hated anything that dimmed his usual cheerfulness, hated anything that made his usually clear blue eyes appear a stormy slate gray, as happened whenever he was hurt. Hated anything that might threaten his usually buoyant spirit. If she could have—as uncharacteristically sentimental as the thought was—she sometimes thought she would happily keep him, his tender heart, wrapped up in bubble wrap so he might never be hurt or betrayed by anyone again.

But since she couldn't do that—and he wouldn't appreciate knowing she wanted to do such a thing—she'd come up with a plan to distract him and cheer him up.

The first step had been to ask Gates for the weekend off and then she'd suggested casually that they might take advantage of it by going out to the Hamptons for the weekend. It was obviously off-season but she wanted them to get out of the city, away from the place where she was a cop and he was no longer able to work with her.

So here they were in the Hamptons and they were going to have dinner with the Langfords, as they'd promised Judge Langford after he had officiated their wedding. And that was the second part of her plan. Castle was a people person so having congenial company over should cheer him up, all the better as the Langfords were entirely unconnected to the precinct and police work. And Judge Langford's wife was a fan so Kate fully expected that their conversation at dinner would inevitably revolve, at least for a while, around Castle's writing, which should also help to cheer him up.

Castle reached out and caught her around the waist—again—as she made to slip past him to get to the cupboard where the wine glasses were kept.

Kate laughed softly as he tugged her in against him, his hands running up and down her back. "Really, Castle, I'm never going to be able to get the table ready if you keep grabbing me."

He smirked at her. "It's not fair to wear this sweater and then not let me touch you in it whenever I can. You know I love you in this sweater."

She bit the inside of her lip to keep her own smirk from showing. Yes, she did know he loved it when she wore this angora sweater; she'd found that out the first time she wore it around him. It was incredibly soft to the touch and while Castle was always tactile and affectionate—as she'd once said, he touched things and, in particular, loved touching her—when she wore this sweater, he was always hard put to keep his hands off her, touched her whenever he could. It was one way of making sure that his mind was on her. And it didn't hurt that she loved that he loved to touch her so much.

"Gee, Castle, I always thought you liked me better out of my clothes, not wearing them," she quipped.

His eyes widened and then his grip on her tightened abruptly, tugging her in closer to him. "Why, Katherine Beckett," he half-growled, his low tone sending shivers through her, "are you trying to seduce me?"

She gave him a teasing look. "It's Mrs. Castle, remember? It happened right here at this house."

His eyes flared at her use of her married title and he kissed her hard, possessively.

She melted against him—god, she loved his kisses—her arms sliding around his neck.

He moved on to string kisses along her cheek and down her chin and she let her head fall back with a soft moan of pleasure. His body pressed her back against the counter as his lips found every sensitive spot on her neck, sending her thoughts scattering.

The loud buzzer as the oven timer went off made them both jump, breaking apart.

Castle groaned a little, making a rather comical face at her, as he slipped on a pair of oven mitts and moved toward the oven to take out what he had boasted was his special garlic bread.

Kate grinned at him. "Saved by the bell," she quipped.

"Saved? More like tortured by the bell," he shot back.

She opened the cupboard and retrieved two wine glasses. "No, definitely saved, Castle. The Langfords should be here soon. We don't have time to…"

"Make out?" he finished for her, wiggling his brows at her. "You sure about that? We could have a quickie before dinner."

She choked on a laugh even as she skirted around the counter, taking the long way to the table so as to avoid temptation—both hers and his. "Stop it, Castle."

He huffed an exaggerated sigh. "Oh fine. If you must ruin a perfectly nice fantasy…"

She shot him a look through her lashes, one of the come-hither looks she knew never failed to affect him. "Just wait until tonight, Castle. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Kate."

She only grinned at him, giddiness bubbling up inside her as still happened occasionally when she was with Castle and the realization that they were actually _married_, that they would spend the rest of their lives together, suddenly struck her all over again. Definitely still in the honeymoon period, she thought. In spite of Castle no longer being able to come in to the precinct with her—and she missed having him there more than she'd admitted even to him because she hadn't wanted to make his banishment even harder on him than it already was—she was happy. So happy to live with him, to spend her life with him.

"Go pick out a wine for us, Castle," was all she said.

He gave her a teasing salute before he went over to the wine cooler while she finished setting out the wine glasses and then ran a quick eye over the table, satisfied that everything was ready. The salad was already out. Castle had just taken his special garlic bread out of the oven—the timely (or untimely) interruption. She'd made pasta with meat sauce.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Kate went to answer it, even as she was momentarily struck by the realization that this was her house too now, that she had the perfect right to answer the door, to act as its hostess.

She opened the door to see the familiar smiling face of Judge Brad Langford, accompanied by a pleasant-looking African-American woman who looked to be a couple years older than Kate.

"Mrs. Castle," Brad greeted her with a smile. "It's good to see you again."

Kate smiled and stepped back to let them in. "Come in and call me Kate." She shook Brad's hand and then turned to his wife.

"Kate, my wife, Cheryl."

Kate shook Cheryl's hand. "It's so good to meet you, Mrs. Langford."

"You're even prettier than I had pictured," Cheryl blurted out making Kate and Brad both laugh while Cheryl colored and looked a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It's just I feel like I know you already. You're Nikki Heat."

Kate laughed a little. "It's Kate. Nikki is still mostly a product of my husband's over-active imagination," she corrected lightly, as she felt a small wriggle of happiness go through her at being able to call Castle her husband. (Definitely still in the honeymoon period. Lanie would die laughing if she knew.)

"It's not only from the Nikki Heat books that I feel like I know you already, Kate," Cheryl clarified. "I've heard quite a bit about you from Chief Brady too. He's quite a fan, you know."

Kate smiled. "Chief Brady's a good cop in his own right so that means a lot. Come in and meet Cas—Rick," she corrected herself quickly. She supposed she should try to get used to referring to Castle as Rick while talking to the Langfords but saying his first name felt awkward on her tongue. And a small, irrational corner of her wanted to keep her use of his first name to the times when they were alone together. It made no sense and she knew that but she rather liked that her calling him Rick tended to be a private thing between the two of them.

Castle looked up from the bottle of wine he'd just opened, putting it down as he came forward with a smile.

"Brad, good to see you again."

"Rick, thanks for inviting us," Brad greeted him, shaking his hand. "This is my wife, Cheryl. Cheryl, I'm sure I don't need to tell you but this is Richard Castle."

Castle turned towards Cheryl with one of his genuine, friendly smiles, more open and personal than the one he used at his publicity events. "Hi, Cheryl, call me Rick. It's so nice to finally meet you."

Cheryl didn't appear to notice Castle's outstretched hand, only stared at him before blurting out, "Oh my God, it's really you."

They all laughed and Castle grinned, mischief seeping into his eyes. "Last I checked, yes, I'm really me," he joked. He glanced over at Kate. "Kate, you didn't let a pod person take over my body, did you?"

"Not that I noticed."

Castle laughed. "There, Kate's a detective and she notices things so we should be safe that I'm really me."

Cheryl laughed along with Brad and, not for the first time, Kate marveled at Castle's ability to put people at ease, Cheryl clearly having forgotten even to be embarrassed at her star-struck reaction to meeting Castle. "Good to know." She looked up at Rick and then added, "You're taller than I expected."

Kate suppressed a laugh. She'd made a sort of bet with herself that Cheryl would say something like that. She'd never mentioned it to Castle but it was what she'd thought too when she met him, for real, at the _Storm Fall_ book party. He'd been seated for the book signing she had gone to so she'd had no way of judging his height. She'd been surprised by his height—by the fact that even in her heels, she still needed to raise her eyes to his—and by the breadth of his shoulders but it wasn't really about his physical size. It was more something about his _presence_, something that had to do with his charm, the force of his personality, but was also something innate in him. It was most obvious when he put on his public persona but still evident even at times like this, in the privacy of their own home.

"You know, I get that a lot," Castle joked. "I'm a little concerned that the picture on my book jackets must make me look like a midget or maybe a hobbit. I should revise my author's blurb to say something like 'Richard Castle, who is tall, really, seriously, I mean it, he's tall, lives in New York with his wife, his daughter, and his mother."

"Good luck convincing Gina to let you do that, Castle," Kate said rather dryly.

Castle made a face mostly for Brad's and Cheryl's benefit, explaining in an aside, "Gina's my publisher who makes it her mission to spoil all my fun."

"Stop pouting, Castle," Kate told him teasingly before turning to Brad and Cheryl. "Come and sit down. Dinner's all ready. Do you want some wine?"

They sat down at the table, Castle pouring all of them some wine, and conversation became a little more general as they all served themselves and began eating. Castle asked Brad about his kids—being babysat this evening by Cheryl's mother—while Kate asked Cheryl whether she worked—yes, Cheryl was apparently an interior decorator—and Cheryl told some stories from her work, noting that she liked it because it allowed her to work from home more often than not and when she needed to go on house visits, she could schedule them for when her kids were in school.

"Of course, thanks to the Nikki Heat books, I feel like I know a lot more about what your work is like," Cheryl said.

Kate laughed a little. "Don't believe what you read in the books. Cas—Rick has an over-active imagination so my life isn't nearly as interesting as Nikki Heat's life." Bah, Kate gave up on trying to correct herself all evening long. Anyway, Brad and Cheryl didn't seem like the sort to mind or think anything of it.

"Somehow I doubt that. I have read about you personally and not just as Nikki Heat; I saw you on the news when you arrested that Senator."

Kate stiffened in spite of herself at the reference to Bracken—of course, she should have expected that, Bracken's arrest and the criminal charges that had been filed against him had been national news and she had, of necessity, been frequently mentioned in the news stories as the arresting detective and as the daughter of one of Bracken's victims—and she automatically, instinctively turned to Castle. He had also heard Cheryl's words and met her eyes for a moment, giving her an understanding look.

"Cheryl," he spoke up, getting Cheryl's attention, "I wanted to ask, what did you think of my latest books? And please, be honest. I almost never get to talk to one of my readers in such an informal setting and I'm always curious to know what people really think." It was a surprisingly self-centered thing to ask but Kate knew he was doing it to distract Cheryl, change the subject away from Bracken, away from her mother's case. It must have been the quickest thing he could think of on the spot and was a subject guaranteed to keep both Brad and Cheryl's attentions focused on him. She'd known he would step in, deflect the attention from her so she could tamp down on the emotions which the mention of Bracken always brought up. It was what he did, part of what made him so much her anchor, her safe haven, her… Castle.

"Oh no, be prepared to have your ears talked off," Brad joked, winking at his wife. "I once made the mistake of asking Cheryl why she enjoyed your books so much and half an hour later when she was still talking, I realized it may have been the stupidest thing I'd ever done."

Cheryl shot her husband a look. "It was not half an hour!" she protested and then turned to Castle. "It really wasn't."

Castle laughed. "I'm sure it wasn't and I won't ask you to repeat whatever it was you told Brad then. Did you enjoy the books?"

"Oh, very much. Of course I always do," Cheryl assured Castle.

"She enjoyed them so much that she didn't even hear me call her name three times while she was reading them and little Ben had to yell 'Mommy' twice before she heard him," Brad leaned over to tell Kate with the air of one revealing a terrible secret, although he winked as he said it.

Somewhat restored to herself, Kate managed a little laugh. "Castle's books have occasionally had the same effect on me." She caught Castle's surreptitious glance of combined surprise and lingering concern and gave him a quick smile.

"Oh, are you a fan of Rick's books as well, Kate?" Cheryl asked.

Kate opened her lips to respond but Castle beat her to it, interjecting, "Oh, Kate's been my number one fan for years now."

His number one fan shot him a saucy glance. "I'm just trying to be a loyal partner."

Castle only smirked at her, his eyes clearing, knowing she was once again herself from her teasing. "Says the woman who owned her own copies of _Hell Hath No Fury_ and _A Skull in Springtime_."

"Those are some of your earliest works, aren't they, Rick? I haven't read them yet," Cheryl said. "It's hard to find copies of them."

"Believe me, you're not missing anything," Kate told Cheryl. "They're hardly worth reading." She was never ever going to admit in Castle's hearing that she'd actually read _Hell Hath No Fury_ twice and _A Skull in Springtime_ three times.

"Sadly, I must admit that Kate's right. They're my worst books so please, for the sake of my own ego, don't read them," Castle said jokingly to Cheryl.

Cheryl laughed. "Well, if you say so, I guess I must take your word for it."

"Thank you," Castle said with exaggerated gratitude.

"And Rick," Cheryl went on, "my mother and my mother-in-law were both thrilled by the signed copies of your latest books and they both said that _Raging Heat_ was their favorite of the Nikki Heat series so far."

"Well, thank them for me. That's always nice to hear," Castle returned smoothly in one of his stock responses but he added on a more personal note, "I have a soft spot for _Raging Heat_ myself." Kate caught his quick glance in her direction, the faintest upward quirk of his lips, and knew he was referring to the fact that _Raging Heat_ was perhaps the book that was most focused on Nikki's and Rook's relationship, the one where the echoes to their own relationship had been rather painfully familiar.

Cheryl turned to Kate. "I didn't realize you were also a fan of Rick's. What is that like, to know you're the inspiration for an author you like? I can't even imagine what that must feel like."

Kate laughed. "If someone had told me before I met Castle that he'd base several books on me, I'd have been beyond flattered—well, assuming I believed it, which I wouldn't have. But then I actually met him and, well, I forgot to be flattered because I was so busy trying not to kill that author I'd liked."

Everyone laughed as Castle assumed an exaggeratedly hurt expression.

"Instead you just ended up falling in love with that author and marrying him," Brad quipped.

Kate felt her expression softening as she glanced at Castle. "Believe me, I was as surprised about it as anyone."

Castle shrugged a little but his eyes were warm. "What can I say, I'm a lovable person."

"And very vain," Kate immediately finished for him.

Castle smirked at her even as he dramatically mimed being stabbed in the chest. "You wound me, Detective."

Brad and Cheryl laughed before Cheryl asked, "But tell me, Kate, as his inspiration and his wife, do you get to read what he writes before anyone else does? Because if so, I do believe I must make you my new best friend just so I can find out what happens next to Nikki."

Kate laughed. "Oh no, Castle doesn't let anyone except his editor read what he writes before a book is finished except for final edits."

"In my defense, that's mostly Black Pawn's policy; they want to make sure spoilers don't get out and the easiest way to ensure that is make sure no one reads the book as it's being written," Castle explained.

Cheryl looked rather disappointed. "But surely he must tell you something about what he has planned for Nikki."

"He mentions things in passing but he's usually careful to speak in pretty general terms—Nikki's chasing down a suspect or she's just beaten up a couple of thugs, that sort of thing. But I have to admit that part of the reason for that is my fault. I don't want to be spoiled either. It's more fun to wait for the finished product and read it all then." Kate shrugged and laughed a little self-deprecatingly. "I'm a detective; I'm always testing myself to see if I figure out the mystery before Nikki or Alex Cross or any other fictional detective does." Kate leaned towards Cheryl on a sudden impulse. "I'll tell you what, though. For his next book, I'll make sure to send you one of Castle's advance author copies so you can read it before it's actually released to the public." She glanced at Castle and saw his almost imperceptible nod. He was agreeing to the offer she'd made which, technically, she had no right to make, and Kate sent him a smile.

Cheryl's face lit up with her smile. "Oh, thank you, Kate. I would love that." She turned to Castle. "Rick, I promise not to give away spoilers to anyone else."

"Kate, I think you've just become Cheryl's new favorite person," Brad quipped.

"Shouldn't I be the new favorite person as the one who actually writes the books?" Castle wondered with mock injury.

Brad laughed. "Believe me, Rick, you've been one of Cheryl's favorite people for years. It's enough to make a man jealous."

Cheryl made a face at her husband. "Oh don't be silly, Brad. Just because I've been reading Rick's books since before we even met is no reason to be jealous."

Kate smiled. "Really? How long have you been reading Castle's books?"

"I discovered Rick's books when I was in college and the rest, as they say, is history. Which reminds me," Cheryl turned to Castle. "When we mentioned to my mother that we would be having dinner with you, she insisted we ask you something that I must admit we've both been wondering for years."

"Ask away," Castle responded lightly.

"Why did you kill off Derrick Storm in _Storm Fall_?" Cheryl laughed a little. "I know since you've brought him back, it shouldn't matter but I've been wondering about it since I read the book and now that I've met you, I simply can't resist asking."

"Yes, Rick," Brad spoke up teasingly. "I rather want to know the answer to that too. Explain why you wrote something that almost gave me a heart attack."

Castle shot Brad a questioning look. "I didn't realize you read my books as well."

"I don't," Brad answered promptly. "Well, no, I've read the first couple Nikki Heat books since meeting you and Kate last fall but aside from that, I haven't read any. The ending of _Storm Fall_ nearly gave me a heart attack because of how Cheryl here reacted to it."

Castle smiled. "I'm sensing a story to this."

"Well, at the time, our little Ben was barely over a year old and Cheryl took advantage of his taking a nap to finish reading your latest book, _Storm Fall_. I was in my office when I heard Cheryl let out this shriek."

"I wouldn't call it a shriek," Cheryl interrupted. "It was perhaps a soft cry."

"Cheryl shrieked," Brad repeated with a teasing look at his wife. "I stood up so quickly I knocked over my chair and raced into the other room, my heart in my throat, assuming that something must have happened to little Ben. And when I got there, I saw that Ben was just fine, sleeping like the baby he was, and Cheryl was sitting on the couch with tears running down her face and she looked up at me and just said, 'he's dead.'"

"Oh dear," Kate said through her laughter.

"Oh dear is right," Brad agreed laughingly. "I assumed of course that something terrible had happened to someone we knew and asked her rather frantically who had died."

"And I told him that Derrick Storm had died," Cheryl finished for him. She gave her husband a fondly exasperated glance. "Honestly, he hasn't let me live down that moment since it happened. Is it so strange that I would be upset when one of my favorite fictional characters died?"

"No, not strange at all," Kate assured her with a smile. "I have to admit that I've cried over the deaths of fictional characters myself."

"Yes, I think a lot of people cried over Derrick's death," Castle admitted. "I know I received quite a few distraught letters from fans reproaching me for killing off Derrick." He added with a laugh, "And I distinctly remember one letter I got after resurrecting Derrick that informed me that I still wasn't forgiven for having killed off Derrick in the first place even if I did bring him back to life. My publisher made sure I received that letter since she hasn't forgiven me for what I did to Derrick in _Storm Fall_ either."

Brad chuckled. "People do get invested in characters. So tell us, why did you decide to kill off Derrick Storm?"

Kate sent Castle a rather teasing look as she turned to him. "Yes, tell us, Castle, why did you kill off Derrick?"

Castle caught Kate's eye for a moment, giving her a quick, private smile, and she knew he was remembering how she'd crashed the book release party for _Storm Fall _and then how he'd given her the signed copy of _Storm Fall_ to distract her from his stealing the evidence of the Tisdale case. And Kate found herself suddenly remembering the way he had leaned in to kiss her cheek, the rush of tingling heat she'd felt from the spot his lips had touched which she had tamped down and then firmly denied that she'd felt for months afterwards. Her eyes were snared by his lips, curved into his familiar smirk, and she had to tear her gaze away, focusing on the table. Damn man, he knew what the sight of his smirk did to her.

Castle turned back to Brad and Cheryl. "I decided to kill off Derrick Storm because I wanted to move on professionally, write about a different character," he explained giving the more impersonal stock answer he usually gave, Kate knew.

"And you needed to kill him off in order to do so?" Brad asked, a tinge of skepticism in his voice.

Castle shrugged. "When I make a decision, I tend to go all out. Besides which, I thought I needed to make it as clear as I possibly could that I was done with Derrick Storm so no one, by which I mean, my publisher, could come after me to insist I write more. And in all frankness, I had gotten bored with Derrick Storm, run out of story ideas for him." He glanced at Kate again and then added, his expression and his tone changing, "I needed a fresh start and I found my fresh start and my new character when a certain detective, who will remain nameless, dragged me into her precinct for questioning about a murder that had been committed."

Cheryl and Brad laughed. "I assume this detective was you, Kate," Brad commented.

Kate smiled. "Guilty as charged, I'm afraid."

Cheryl smiled as she turned to Kate. "Oh, is that how you met? I know he's been shadowing you in his research for Nikki Heat but I didn't realize how you first met."

Kate suppressed a wince at Cheryl's innocent mention of Castle's shadowing Kate, sensed Castle's shift in his mood at this reminder of what he could no longer do, and it was her turn to step in to deflect attention from him. She immediately started telling the story of the Tisdale case, going into rather more detail than she normally ever did in telling civilians about her past cases, but Harrison Tisdale's trial was long over and the facts were in the public record as a result. And Castle needed to be distracted and she knew he loved it when she was the one to tell a story. And this particular story was one he would enjoy hearing and as she'd expected, he ended up chiming in, so they told it falling into their usual rhythm, finishing each other's sentences.

It worked. Brad and Cheryl were appropriately fascinated, interjecting comments and reactions, but more importantly, she sensed Castle relaxing, saw it in his eyes and in his expression, heard it in his voice as he slid into storytelling mode. And for a moment, Kate thought she could even be thankful for Harrison Tisdale's greed and devious plotting that made for such a good story, a story that appealed to all of Castle's storytelling instincts.

"Wow," Cheryl finally said when the story was told, "it's like a tale straight out of one of your books, Rick."

"Yes, it was rather," Castle agreed.

"If that's the sort of case you deal with, Kate, I'm not surprised that Rick decided to base a series of books on you. Your work sounds like a great inspiration for plots," Brad interjected.

"Oh, the cases she solved weren't what inspired me," Castle immediately spoke up, sending Kate a sidelong look. "It was just her. I'd known her for a total of maybe 10 minutes when the character of Nikki sprang to life in my head and demanded to be written about."

"Is that how it usually happens? That a character gets into your head?" Cheryl asked with interest.

"No, not always. Sometimes, it's just the plot of something happening and the characters that are necessary to make that event happen come along for the ride but my better books are the ones that are based on characters, where the characters drive the plot and not the other way around. I like to think that my books, the better ones at least, are character studies, explorations of what motivates people to do the terrible things they do."

Kate turned to study Castle, feeling an old, mostly forgotten little thrill go through her. She was listening to her favorite author talk about his writing process. How… surreal. She suddenly remembered the way she'd felt when she'd first seen his electronic story board in his study, that feeling of being in the Batcave, as she'd said.

"Oh my God," Cheryl breathed. "I'm listening to Richard Castle talk about his writing process. This is the coolest evening ever."

They all laughed and Kate had to agree. Yes, it really was cool. Castle didn't tend to talk much about his writing process. She knew his writing habits, the way he wrote at all hours whenever the inspiration struck, knew the way he constantly carried around a little Moleskin notebook to jot down ideas, bits of dialogue, or scenes that came to him. She knew the way he plotted his stories out on a storyboard. But she hadn't until now really heard him talk about the way he approached coming up with his plots in the first place, how he approached writing about the characters he came up with.

Castle sent Brad a laughing glance. "I must say, I'm enjoying all this admiration. The next time I get a bad review, I should invite you both over."

Kate huffed a laugh. "Castle, if your ego gets any bigger, this house won't be big enough to fit it."

Castle sent Kate a look of exaggerated shock. "I don't know how you can say that. I'm very humble!"

"Sure you are, Castle," Kate teased. "You're as 'umble as Uriah Heep."

"Ooh, a Dickens reference," he shot back. "Well-played," was what he said but she saw the glint in his eyes, caught the quirk of his lips, and knew that what he was thinking was that it was hot. Kate suppressed a laugh; only Castle would find a literary reference to be a turn-on. Then again, she kind of loved that about him too.

Kate turned back to Brad and Cheryl, suddenly a little self-conscious at how easily she and Castle had fallen into their usual banter. "Tell me, how is Chief Brady doing? We haven't had a chance to talk to him lately."

Brad was the one who answered and conversation became rather general after that. Brad and Cheryl told a few stories of local happenings around the Hamptons in the last few months. Brad asked after Alexis and Martha and then talk shifted to Castle, Brad, and Cheryl swapping parenthood stories for a little while. Kate was quieter for this but she always loved watching Castle as he talked about Alexis, loved the way his expression changed, his eyes softening.

The rest of the evening passed almost remarkably quickly until Cheryl glanced over at the clock and gave a soft exclamation that they had promised her mother to be home soon.

That realization led to a flurry of leave-taking, Brad thanking them for the invitation and Cheryl apologizing for not being able to help clean up at all and Castle brushing both thanks and apologies off and promising to invite them over, along with Brad and Cheryl's kids, in the summer to let them take advantage of the pool and the private beach.

Castle slung his arm around Kate's shoulders as they both saw the Langfords to the door and sent them on their way with cordial good nights and friendly waves.

Castle dropped a quick kiss on her hair as they turned to return to the kitchen to start the clean up. "This was fun."

Kate smiled and slipped her arm around him in a half-hug. "It was. I like both Brad and Cheryl."

"I do too," he agreed.

"And not only because Cheryl is such a big fan of yours?" Kate teased.

He laughed. "Hey, I'm not asking if you like Cheryl because you and she have my books in common."

Kate pretended to think about it. "Mm, I do like that she's a fan of Nikki Heat."

Castle smirked. "Ha. So there."

Kate elbowed him and then hastily scooted out of his reach, heading to the table to pick up a couple plates.

He threw her a look that told her he knew perfectly well she was using the plates as a defensive mechanism against any retribution on his part and she only grinned at him.

But they fell easily into a routine for cleaning, he rinsing out the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher while she finished clearing off the table and then wiping it down.

Castle was humming tunelessly to himself as he worked, a habit of his that Kate had gone from finding irritating to finding rather endearing. (Ugh. She could roll her eyes at herself. She'd never imagined that falling in love would turn her into such a sap.) She scooted past him to get Tupperware for the leftover food, checking him lightly with her hip as she passed. He flicked a few drops of water at her in response and they both grinned at each other—well, okay, she grinned and he smirked.

It was all so… domestic, Kate suddenly thought, how smoothly they had divided up the cleaning tasks without even talking about it. Funny, they had split up the preparation and cooking for the dinner too but it was this, the way they'd divvied up the clean up that suddenly struck her as being significant, and she found herself laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Us. This." Kate closed the refrigerator door after putting away the leftover pasta and made a gesture to encompass the entire kitchen area. "The way we're working together to clean up after dinner." She laughed again. "We really are a married couple now, aren't we?"

"We really are."

Another silence fell while she finished cleaning the table that he abruptly broke by blurting out seriously, "Thank you, Kate."

She glanced at him in some surprise. "For what? If you're thanking me for cooking, you did half of it so it's not necessary."

He finished rinsing the plates and stacking them in the dishwasher, drying off his hands before coming over to slide his arms loosely around her waist, his hands (predictably) stroking her sweater. "Thank you for this, not just cooking but for thinking to invite Brad and Cheryl over, for arranging this evening. I—I've never really done this before."

She blinked and frowned a little. "Never really invited people over?" She found that hard to believe.

He cracked a small smile at that. "No, not exactly. Just invited another couple over for a quiet dinner between friends, that's what I've never really done before."

"Really?"

"Really." He hesitated and she saw the change in his expression, felt the sudden increase in tension in his body, that gave her an indication of what he was going to say before he went on, not quite smoothly, "Gina—well, she wasn't at all domestic but aside from that, the only type of entertaining she ever wanted to do, especially out here, was a big party with big names, the kind of thing that got mentioned in the papers and was good for publicity purposes. This sort of thing, a casual, low-key thing with just a couple people, was not at all her thing so I've never done this before." It went without saying, of course, that Meredith had certainly not been domestic either.

"Oh," was all Kate could say, rather inanely. Not for the first time, she had to marvel at Castle's life before they'd met, at how someone who was really inclined to be a family man, who mostly just wanted to spend time with the people he loved best—Alexis and Martha, and now her and the boys and Lanie—had somehow led a life that was split into two polar opposites. His mostly quiet life in the loft with Alexis and Martha where he was just Rick Castle, devoted father and loving son, and his public society life of partying and women, where he was Richard Castle, multi-millionaire best-selling author. She knew he was sociable and outgoing and enjoyed parties but it really was an occasional thing for him, not what he preferred to do, not the life he really wanted to live.

And he'd never really done this—a casual dinner with another couple—before. Kate felt her heart melt a little. He knew—she wasn't even sure how he knew this since she'd never told him—that she loved being with him for his firsts. She tried not to think about it and for the most part it didn't bother her but sometimes, sometimes, she wished she could share more of his firsts. She wasn't the first woman he'd loved, wasn't the first woman he'd married, wouldn't be the mother of his first child—but she could do this, be the first woman to be his hostess for small, low-key events.

He smiled at her, one of his real smiles. "This was fun so thank you."

She returned his smile, looping her arms around his neck. "Good. I'm glad you enjoyed tonight. That was the plan."

He blinked. "The plan? What plan?"

Oh, right. "I know you've been down lately so I thought a night with friends would make you happy."

"I'm fine, Kate."

She let out a huff of breath, reflecting that she now entirely understood his own frustration when she persisted in saying she was fine. Really, they weren't all that different in some ways after all, were they? "Castle. Rick." The use of his first name got his attention. "It's okay that you've been depressed over what happened to Eva. I understand; I do. And I just wanted to cheer you up."

He sighed a little. "Beckett, while I'm sorry about Eva, she and I hadn't been friends in more than 20 years. It's not that big a deal and I really am fine."

"Even if you aren't sure you'll keep on being a P.I. and you can't come in to the precinct with me?" she ventured.

His expression changed, his eyes abruptly dimming a little. "You've taken to reading minds in your spare time now?"

She didn't respond to this piece of evasion on his part. "I'm sorry, Castle. You know how sorry I am and that I miss working with you." She did miss working with him. She missed his coffee, missed his (sometimes) silent support beside her, missed the way his enthusiasm and his crazy theories brightened up her days. She missed building theory with him, missed the way their minds seemed to work in sync so often. She could laugh at herself sometimes when she remembered just how resistant she had been at first to the very idea of his shadowing her. Her work, the precinct, the job and the place that had been her home and her mainstay for so many years, just… wasn't anymore. Oh, she still liked her job, the challenge of it, finding out the truth for the victims and their families—she was just finding her job to be so much… bleaker… without him there. Now, she didn't want to stay at the precinct longer than she needed to, tried to find ways of bringing work home to the loft rather than doing it at her desk. She'd always thought the precinct was more her home than either of her apartments had ever been, certainly it was the place she'd spent the most time at. Now—well, now, the precinct wasn't home and, for that matter, neither was the loft, not really. Castle was home.

His expression froze a little, his body tensing, at this reminder of his banishment from the precinct. He'd moped about it for weeks after it had happened but he'd also steadfastly refused to say much about what he felt, insisting he'd be fine. Kate had been a little surprised and frustrated by it—and gained a new understanding of how he must feel when it was her insisting she was fine—but she also understood how it was necessary to try to work some things out alone first even before sharing it with anyone else, no matter how close and loving the relationship. And so she hadn't pressed him too hard.

She sighed a little and then rose up to kiss him softly. "I do miss you at the precinct but Castle, you know it's not that important, right?"

He let out a shuddering breath. "But Kate, I promised… partners in life _and crime_, always."

"I know, Castle, but the most important part is being partners in _life_, and as long as I have that, as long as we have that, it's enough." She gave him a small smile. "In case you haven't noticed, I've still been happy. I _am_ happy with you, you know that, right?"

He managed a smile at that. "You make me happy too."

"See, Castle, you don't need to be a volunteer homicide detective or a P.I. or even my partner at work to make me happy. You just need to be you and that's enough."

He gave her a small, rather poignant smile. "Kate, I can't tell you how much I love you for that but it's not you, it's _me_." He broke off on a sardonic little laugh. "I know, that's a terrible line but it's true. I don't know how to feel like I'm… enough… if I don't make a difference too, solve crimes, get justice for victims. You… you're extraordinary," his expression shifted, became tender and a little sad somehow, "and you spend every day making the city a safer place. I loved working with you at the precinct because I was spending time with you, of course, but it also made me feel like I was making a real difference for the first time in my life and that meant a _lot_ to me."

She blinked and stared, a little stunned at this admission from Castle which he'd never put into words before and at the same time feeling as if she shouldn't be surprised at all. She knew that Castle's cockiness tended to be a shield to hide a well-hidden vein of insecurity but she hadn't realized how much he might still worry about not being enough and how his new doubts about being a P.I. would play into his insecurity.

"Oh, Castle, no. You don't need to solve crimes to make a difference; you've always made a difference. You made a difference through your books, Castle."

He gave her a rather strained smile. "That's nice of you, Kate. I know you like my books but you realize that I write _fiction_. Stories, that's all."

She moved one hand to cup his cheek, giving him a small smile. "Don't underestimate the importance of writing fiction, Castle. Your books have given thousands, even millions, of people, hours of entertainment and that's not nothing, you know. When people are sad or angry or troubled or just bored, they read your books and for that little while, they forget about their own lives and sometimes you just need something to take your mind off things."

He managed a smile. "Thank you for that, Kate, but it's not exactly on par with saving lives or bringing justice to victims of crime."

"Do you know why your books mean so much to me?"

He blinked, the faintest of frowns crossing his brow. "Yes, you told me it's because they make you feel closer to your mom."

"That's why I started to read your books but, Castle, that's not why I love them so much."

He choked a little, color flushing his cheeks. "Kate, you—you _love_ my books? Really?"

Oh Castle. For a moment, Kate almost hated herself for never having told him before just how much his books had meant to her, for her tendency to make light of what she felt, how much he had done for her. Even now, in spite of everything, it was hard for her to be so open about her feelings, hard for her to put things into words. She wasn't sure she even had the words to explain just what his books had done for her before she'd ever met him. He was the wordsmith, not her. She knew he knew that about her and he probably read her better than anyone else so half the time, words weren't even necessary. But he deserved to have the words too, deserved to know what his words had done for her. He deserved everything.

She gave him a small, tender smile, letting him see all she felt for him and for his words in her eyes, and saw his eyes widen and then soften. "Castle, your books saved me," she told him softly. "What you write, mysteries, they're not just stories; they show the world the way it ought to be, provide a vision of justice. And that matters; it's important. I know it meant a lot to me. My mom was dead and the cops didn't seem to care but in your books, it wasn't like that. In your books, victims always got justice, killers were caught and punished, even if it took years. Your books made me believe in the possibility of justice, Castle, and I needed that." She paused and traced her fingers lightly across his eyebrows. "Your books held me together, patched me up, until you came along and saved me for real." He had saved her, had healed the broken, jagged pieces of her heart that had been shattered by her mother's death, and she could only hope that somehow she could give him all that he needed, be for him all that he was for her.

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes soft and filled with tears. "Kate… you—I… don't know what to say."

She gave him a tender, teasing smile, letting her fingers play with the soft hair just above his ears. "The wordsmith has no words?"

He managed a small, soft laugh. "You've always been able to make me speechless, Kate."

"I mean it, Castle. Don't ever underestimate the importance of your books, to me or to any of your other readers. What you write matters; your words and the stories you tell matter."

"Kate…" And then he was kissing her, his arms hauling her against him, holding her as if he would never let her go, his lips warm and soft.

She knew his kisses now, could read his mood to within an inch from the way he kissed her. He kissed her now with all the love and tenderness he was capable of, kissed her as if it were somehow, simultaneously, the first time and the last time, kissed her as if he had only this one chance to show her all he felt.

She melted against him and kissed him back with all the fervor and sincerity of what she felt for him, meeting and matching his love and devotion with her own.

They finally broke apart when they each needed to breathe but he didn't go far, only rested his forehead against hers, let their breaths mingle.

"I love you, Kate," he whispered.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip in a futile attempt to keep her wide, giddy smile from showing. She would never get over the thrill of hearing him say those words—more than that, she would never get over the thrill of how _easily_ he said them now. No more hiding, no more holding back, no more subtext that skirted around the edges of his feelings or hers. "That's nice since you're kind of stuck with me."

He huffed out a soft laugh. "Such a poetic turn of phrase, Detective."

"You want poetry?"

"I'm a writer; of course I want poetry."

She laughed softly and then gave him some poetry or something close enough. "'I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?'"

"Stealing from the Bard, Beckett?" He was trying for lightness but she heard the huskiness in his tone that betrayed his emotions, a huskiness that sent a little shiver of heat wriggling through her.

"Mm," she hummed a little, edging in just the slightest bit closer to him so he would feel her warm breath against his ear—she knew what that did to him—and then nipped his earlobe with her teeth.

He jumped, startling back, and threw her an exaggeratedly reproachful look.

She suppressed a laugh and sent him a half-teasing but wholly seductive look through her lashes. "Take me to bed, Writer Man. I have this fantasy about sleeping with my favorite author…"

He laughed, his eyes bright and spilling over with so much love and, yes, lust too, that it made her skin heat, her heart start to race. And then he caught her up in his arms and proceeded to make her fantasy come true.

_~The End~_

_A/N 2: The line Kate quotes is from "Much Ado About Nothing." _

_Thank you for reading, as always! _


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